Survivors - Jean Lorrah [43]
The young Engineer lay listlessly on one of the treatment couches, two round tranquilizer pads attached to his forehead. Like Dare, he was dressed in a blue sickbay coverall. Bosinney’s right arm disappeared from the elbow down into a healing unit. His eyes were open, but they stared blankly at nothing.
Without waiting for the doctor’s permission, Dare pulled one of the tranquilizer pads off. Bosinney blinked, and attempted to focus on him. “Mr. Adin,” he said, somewhat thickly. “I’m glad … you survived, sir.”
“And we’re all glad you did, son.” It was the first time Yar had ever heard him address a trainee so familiarly-except herself, of course, and that only in private. “We need your help, George. If we can’t get the impulse engines running, we’re all going to die.”
“Wish I … could help, sir. But … my hand-“
“George,” said Dare, “you can’t think straight, tranquilized that way. If I remove the other pad, you’ll have to face what has happened to you. Can you cope … for the good of your shipmates?”
The unfocused stare told them nothing. But apparently it simply took Bosinney longer than usual to assemble his thoughts under the effects of the tranquilizer, for just as Yar had decided he had tuned them out he said, “For … shipmates. I’ll … try, sir.”
“Good job,” said Dare, and removed the other pad.
Bosinney’s eyes focused at once, and he blinked. He looked toward his right arm, and said, “I can feel my hand. It itches.”
“That’s from the healing in your arm,” said Dr. Trent. “If you want-” He gestured toward the pads Dare had laid on the bedside table.
“No!” Bosinney’s eyes turned to Dare again. “You said we’re all going to die.”
“Not if you can get the impulse engines running.”
“How can I?” Bosinney demanded, his voice squeaking in anguish. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.
“It’s your mind that’s your strong point, Bosinney, not your hands!” Dare told him. “I’m sure Dr. Trent has reminded you of the many members of Starfleet with prosthetic limbs. You’ll have a new hand that works just as well as the original-but only if we get the Starbound to Starbase 18. It’s thirty-five days from here on impulse power-and we’ll have life support once the engines are working.”
“But how?”
“You’re going to sit back and give the orders, son. As Acting Captain of the U.S.S. Starbound, I’m appointing you Acting Chief Engineer. You know the other trainees. Which ones are the most skilled at this kind of work?”
“I won’t know till I assess the damage,” Bosinney answered.
“Very well.” Dare turned to Trent. “How soon can he start work, Doctor?”
“Another few hours-“
“Can I do any harm that will prevent getting a prosthetic hand if I get up now?” Bosinney asked.
“You’ll still have pain, itching-and the possibility of shock-“
“That wasn’t what I asked,” said the boy, suddenly sounding very much a man.
The doctor gave Dare an annoyed look and replied, “No, you can’t do any more damage now, unless you fall on it.”
“Then please remove the healing unit, Doctor.”
In the next few hours, Yar watched the man she loved bring the terrified and hopeless trainees back to Starfleet levels of discipline. A new duty roster was posted and all departments were manned, if with fewer personnel than usual.
All Dare really did was to proceed according to Starfleet protocols, but ordering, threatening, cajoling, and manipulating the trainees and the reluctant medical staff into following those procedures took tremendous effort. On the first day, Orlov and Hayakawa got their distress signal working, but it could only be sent by pre-warp methods of transmission. It would be months before the signal reached Starbase 18. The only hope it offered was the chance of a ship passing near enough to receive it, before the Starbound ran out of power.
Nonetheless, the news that the signal was broadcasting was the first ray of hope.
Dare followed it with the mass funeral for the crew who fell in the Orion massacre.
That was also